


Kindle Fire With Snow

by poisontaster



Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Insecurity, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Undecided Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-30
Updated: 2009-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-05 08:17:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5368121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff's ready to toss it in and retire.  Jensen has other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kindle Fire With Snow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thatotherperv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatotherperv/gifts).



Jeff hears Jensen's key in the lock. Even if he didn't, it would be hard to ignore Bisou and Puerco's whining, barking gambol from the door to the kitchen and back. But he pretends not to hear. He pretends not to know what's going on until slim arms creep around his waist and Jensen fits his chin into the space on Jeff's shoulder that seems born for it.

"You're not going to retire," Jensen chides as if they hadn't started this conversation nearly thirteen hundred miles apart and several hours ago.

"Well, hello to you, too," Jeff says, trying to sound nonchalant about the whole thing, as though his stomach's not a big hot rock in his gut. He doesn't really want to have this discussion with Jensen, which is why he brought it up over the phone when they were safely separated in Los Angeles and Vancouver.

He also doesn't know what it means, that Jensen apparently hopped immediately on a plane to come here and finish the discussion. It's more than the act of a friend or a fuck-buddy, which are the parameters that Jeff's been operating under all this time.

The arms around Jeff's waist tighten, pulling him back more solidly into Jensen's body. "Jeff. You're not going to retire."

Jeff sets his knife aside on the cutting board and pushes it out of the way. Good thing; the peppers are hardly more than minced pulp at this point. Reluctantly, he turns around.

More than once, Jeff has compared looking at Jensen to staring at the sun, an impression that hasn't lessened over time. The feeling of squinting into a too bright light, of being crisped by it, is worse now, when he's already feeling hangdog and low. He feels a bit like Bisou when he catches her rifling the garbage, a mulish unwillingness to meet Jensen's eyes.

Jensen drags Jeff's face center by the chin anyway. "What's going on?" Jensen asks, forefingers curling into the elastic waistband of Jeff's sweats.

"Nothing," Jeff denies. He knows Jensen will just pull him up short if he tries to sidle away, so he preserves his pride by staying put but he plants his hands on the counter, fingers curling around the Formica. When Jensen gives him skeptical-face, Jeff sighs, slumps. "What do you want me to say, Jen? I told you all of this on the phone; you didn't have to fly all the way down here just to get me to repeat myself."

"Humor me." Jensen softens the sharpness of his words with the gentle skim of his thumb across Jeff's lower lip, a promise for later that, despite everything, makes Jeff want to roll on his back and show belly. Or…maybe not belly.

"I'm forty-five. Yeah, I got work, but ninety percent of it is direct-to-video crap that I'd be embarrassed to put my name on if I had any pride left. I can't compete. And I'm tired of fighting this hard for scraps."

Jensen frowns. "Is this about the Scorsese film?" he asks. "Because Scorsese is an ass…"

"No, it's not about that!" Which isn't exactly true and Jeff knows it and Jensen knows it and he just looks like a damn fool for trying to deny it. "It's not just about that," he amends, kicking his heel against the cabinet door. "But yeah, that's part of it. And yeah, my pride's kind of stung…"

"A minute ago, you didn't have any pride left," Jensen observes.

Jeff shoves Jensen's shoulder, irritated but unable to keep himself from snorting anyway. "Fine. The short, stumpy bits where my pride used to be are stung. Better, asshole?"

"No." Jensen shakes his head. "This is better." His thumb pushes Jeff's chin up, other hand slinking through Jeff's hair, tugging his head back far enough for Jensen to bite his neck, electric tingle that zings all the way to Jeff's cock like it's hard-wired. A moment later, Jensen's hand is there, cupping the growing bulge. Jensen hums. "Mmm. And that's a lot better."

"You flew a thousand miles because you missed the feel of my dick?" Jeff pulls back a little, tries to get a look at Jensen's face, though for what, he has no idea. Maybe just to figure out, once and for all, what the hell Jensen is doing with him. What they're doing together. Because Jeff's not keeping an eye on Jensen or anything, but as far as he can tell, neither one of them is dating or fucking anyone else.

Not that Jensen, at least, has much time for romantic escapades. The career he couldn't quite get moving in front of the camera is going like gangbusters now that he's moved behind it and his show just got its season order upped and second season renewal within days of each other. So having ass on tap has probably been convenient for Jensen in a number of ways.

The thought doesn't really bother Jeff. Truthfully, it makes him feel better to think Jensen's getting something out of this, too.

"Maybe I flew a thousand miles because I missed the feel of _you_." Jensen lifts his head, his eyes heavy-lidded and brilliant at the same time. "You ever think of that?" Jensen grinds against Jeff's thigh, making his interest obvious.

"Those Canadians just not turning your crank, eh?"

It's a feeble joke; Jeff doesn't expect for Jensen's eyes to flash with anger, his already strong jaw tightening to iron. He definitely doesn't expect Jensen to manhandle him aboutface, pin him against the counter.

"I've had just about enough of this, Jeff," Jensen growls, reaching around to jerk at the drawstring on Jeff's sweats. "When will you get it through your head that I'm here because I want to be here?"

It occurs to Jeff that it would be easy for him to get out of this, to step away, stop this from going any further. There's no restraints on him (though the thought of restraints isn't an entirely unwelcome one, given the way his cock jerks). At the same time, as Jensen jerks Jeff's sweats down to his ankles in a single tug, Jeff's never wanted to move less.

"When are you going to get it through your head that just thinking about you turns me on?" Jensen continues, pressing up against Jeff's back, nudging against his ass with tented denim. "And when will you understand that, as un _believably_ sexy as I think you are, as much as I love having sex with you—to a point where I can barely get my damned work done—none of that is why I'm with you. And I am with you. You never let me say the fucking words, but I'm with you." He thrusts against Jeff again, poor imitation of when they're both naked. "I'm with you."

"Jensen…"

"Sweetheart," Jensen orders roughly. "Call me sweetheart."

Jeff's fingers curl against the backstop, back lengthening, hips arching back for Jensen's solidity against him. "Jensen, sweetheart…"

"So this is how it's going to go," Jensen says, reaching between them to undo the button and zip on his jeans. "You're not going to retire. You are going to pack up the dogs and you're going to get over yourself and come to Vancouver and take the role I offered you a year ago." The slither of denim sliding down Jensen's legs is the best, sexiest sound Jeff's ever heard. "And you don't have to come live with me and Icky, okay? You can get your own place, be your own man, if that's what you want. But you _can_ come live with us. If you want. Because I want." Jensen's voice turns unsteady, ending in a bitten off moan as he slides against Jeff, skin to skin. "Ah, _God_ …I want."

"Sweetheart," Jeff moans in return, reaching for Jensen, dragging him close. "Oh, sweetheart…"

**Author's Note:**

> From thatotherperv's prompt: Jeff/Jensen in which Jeff is subby and kind of insecure. I'm not 100% sure I carried it off, but here it is.


End file.
